


Read the Label

by grey2510



Series: Misc SPN Works (<15k words) [27]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Case Fic, Coming Out, Demisexual Castiel (Supernatural), M/M, Oblivious Sam Winchester, Pride, Sam is kinda dense at first, Supportive Sam Winchester, Witches, but he comes around
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-27 11:52:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15024002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grey2510/pseuds/grey2510
Summary: It's two of Dean's least favorite things: witches and parades. Add a dash of miscommunication and a sprig or two of assumptions, you've got yourself a Winchester special. But maybe having his hand forced during a case at Pride won't be as bad as he thinks.





	Read the Label

**Author's Note:**

  * For [noxlee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/noxlee/gifts).



> Written for Nox for correctly guessing what time I'd wake up this morning. ([It's less creepy than it sounds](https://grey2510.tumblr.com/post/175167417723/betting-pool).)
> 
> Thanks to Thayer for the title and for giving it a looksee before I posted :)

"I hate parades," Dean grumbles as he pulls the Impala into a parking space.

The lot is really just a field the town has commandeered for the purpose, as the usual public parking couldn't accommodate the influx of people here for the celebration. Getting out of the car, Dean inspects the ground, making sure the Impala isn't sinking into some mud pit or sitting on something that'd puncture a tire, but the field is fairly flat and hard packed, and if the dirt paths lining the place are any indication, this is not the field's first rodeo as a parking lot.

When he straightens up from his inspection, he finds Sam giving him a bitchface.

"You don't have to be an asshole about it."

Dean frowns. "The hell is that supposed to mean?"

Sam glances at two girls walking by them in rainbow tank-tops, holding hands, and then looks pointedly back at Dean. Cas just stands between the brothers, looking confused and awkward in his new clothes (a white t-shirt, a navy blue work shirt, and jeans), because holy tax accountant wouldn't have flown in this crowd.

It takes Dean a second to catch Sam's meaning and then he scowls. "Really? _That's_ what you think I'm being pissy about? That it's _Pride_? Fuck you, dude."

Sam blinks and then throws up his hands in surrender. "Hey, I'm just saying, you're the one who's always—"

"Always what, Sammy? A homophobic dickbag? Seriously, what the _fuck_." Dean stalks off, letting Cas and Sam jog to keep up. Is that really what his brother thinks of him? When has he ever—

"That's not what I meant, Dean," Sam says as he catches up. "I just meant—"

"Whatever, Sammy. Save it. We got a job to do."

Dean ignores both of them until they're out of the field and on the main road, which has been blocked off from cars for the parade and the vendors. The whole town basically looks like a giant rainbow party, and Dean's immediately assaulted by the wall of bodies, noise, and pop music. _This_ is why he hates parades: there's too many people, it's loud, it's hot, it's impossible to try and contain and deal with anything hinky, and finding this love spell-making witch is gonna be a glittery nightmare.

And even though there are plenty of people wearing regular clothes—and more than a few guys and gals and otherwise wearing flannel, too—Dean still feels like they stand out like sore thumbs. Probably because even the people dressed normally are still sporting leis or little flags of various colors to show their Pride.

"What's the plan?" Cas asks as he comes up to stand next to Dean. He surveys the crowd like this is just any other hunt, and Dean figures that a Pride Parade probably isn't the craziest thing Cas has ever seen over the course of forever.

Dean considers the scene before them, getting momentarily distracted by a drag queen with heels so high that he's half-convinced there's something supernatural about the lack of broken ankles here. Shaking his head, he turns back to Cas. "If we spread out, we'll cover more ground, but then if one of us finds her, we're flying solo." He glances around. "Where's Sam?"

As if on cue, Sam comes over from the direction of a vendor tent, carrying a brightly colored plastic package. "Got us some gear so we can blend in," he announces, revealing the package to be full of index card-sized stickers of various striped patterns. He pulls them out and fans them. "I just grabbed a variety pack. Seemed easiest."

The one on top is of a regular rainbow flag, but it has ALLY written in big black letters above it. Sam catches Dean's eye and Dean recognizes the peace offering for what it is. But he doesn't take the sticker and instead watches Cas ponder them carefully.

"I'm not sure which one to take," Cas admits. "I know they all have specific meanings and I don't wish to offend anyone."

There are a lot more flags than Dean recognizes, too, but he knows at least a handful of them. He has no idea how to help Cas pick a fucking LGBTQ+ flag, though, because he's not entirely sure he wants to know the answer. Sam, at least, has his shit together enough to calmly ask, "Do angels have sexual orientations?"

"Not in the way humans think about it, no," Cas explains, which clears up exactly nothing for Dean. His hands twitch at his sides and his stomach sinks in dread until Cas continues, "I'm generally indifferent, I suppose."

Sam considers this. "Indifferent as in you find lots of people attractive or indifferent as in you're not really attracted to anyone?"

"More the latter, I think."

Dean's stomach bottoms out and he coughs. "Just take a damn sticker, Cas."

He reaches out to do the same, though he ignores the Ally one Sam had silently offered, instead making a show of just grabbing one at random. Turning from the other two before he can meet their eyes, he walks a few steps away and peels the back off his pink, purple, and blue flag to stick it to his chest. It matches his flannel shirt, which he will swear to his dying day he did not wear on purpose (except he definitely might have).

Taking a minute to breathe, he looks around the crowd. Everyone's so happy and easy-going and open—there's hugs and kisses between friends, lovers, total strangers. There's outfits that just _can't_ be comfortable but you'd never know by the smiles on the wearers' faces. He tries not to stare at the couple in front of him as one of them slips an arm around his boyfriend's waist and pulls him in for a quiet kiss. It's nothing splashy, and despite the amount of glitter the two are wearing, it's practically goddamn _domestic_.

Fuck, this is harder than he thought it was going to be.

He crumples up the paper backing from his sticker and tosses it in a nearby trash can just in time to find Cas walking up to him, a sticker affixed to his chest as well. It's a little different from most of the striped flags: a black triangle juts out from the left edge, overlapping the thin purple stripe that cuts across the middle; the top of the flag is white while the bottom is light grey.

"Are you alright?" Cas asks, his eyes narrowed in concern.

Dean sighs. "Peachy. C'mon, we got a witch to gank."

"Dean."

"What?"

Cas' hand on his arm is firm, but not angry. "Is it something I said?"

"No, it's just…" Dean shifts his weight and rubs the back of his neck. "Just… Never mind." He glances at the sticker. "What's that one?"

Cas pulls out his shirt from his stomach a little, looking down at the flag seriously before looking back up at Dean. "Sam looked it up. It means demisexual."

"What's that?"

But of course Moosus Interruptus shows up, wearing the Ally sticker Dean had passed on.

"Alright, I gave the rest to some girl to hand out," Sam says. He glances at Dean's shirt but doesn't say anything; Dean breathes a little easier. "Where do we start?"

"The other vendors, I guess."

Unless their witch is changing tactics, she'll have set up shop somewhere to lure unsuspecting lovelorn folks into buying charms to help them with their unrequited loves. This is the third city she's hit this month, leaving trails of broken hearts and restraining orders from victims once the charms had worn off. The whole thing is a giant, skeevy mess that makes Dean's skin crawl, especially with the memories of the Plum sisters hexing him not that long ago.

The three of them walk around, trying to look as much like celebrators as they can, but Dean knows his smile is forced as Sam and Cas point out funny shirts or some of the wild accessories on display.

"There's just so much variety in humans," Cas remarks as he steps aside and almost into Dean to allow a woman with a double-wide stroller by.

"Yeah, we're always a surprise."

"Sometimes, yes," Cas says cryptically. Across from them, Sam waits for his change at a table selling bottled water. "Dean, before, with the stickers—"

"They're just stickers, Cas."

"That's not..." Cas trails off, then huffs, "Never mind. I'm going to check the tents over there."

"Wait, Cas—"

But Cas doesn't wait, and he doesn't look back, either. Dean watches him go, and he shoves his hand in his pocket to stop it from continually clenching and unclenching.

Sam frowns as he walks up, shoving a water bottle at him. "What's up with Cas?"

Dean chugs half the bottle before answering. Fuck, is it hot out here. "I dunno. He's got his panties in a bunch about something. Keeps wanting to talk about the damn stickers."

Sam's eyes narrow. "Dean, what the hell is going on? C'mon, I'm your brother. Talk to me."

"Nothing. Guess I'm just being an asshole like you said," he retorts.

The barb makes Sam's shoulders sag. "You know I didn't mean it like that."

Watching his big little brother slump drains all the fight out of Dean. God, he's so damn tired of this secrecy bullshit. He's almost forty years old, they've been through how many fucking Apocalypses together. What does it even matter anymore.

He sighs. "Maybe you did, maybe you didn't, but this is exactly why I don't tell you shit sometimes."

"Tell me _what_?"

Dean doesn't answer, just looks calmly at Sam until the light-bulb goes on. He knows the minute it happens when Sam's eyes drift to Dean's shirt and then back up, wide as dinner plates. "Oh. You mean. _Oh_."

"Yeah."

"Shit, I'm sorry. I didn't mean—I should've—"

Dean shrugs. His heart's beating like a fucking jackhammer and if he were smart, he'd slug down the rest of the water, but his brain isn't exactly functioning at a high level right now, seeing as it's kinda preoccupied with the pants-shitting realization that he's just come out to his brother. At a Pride Parade. While wearing a damn bisexual flag on his shirt. What the _hell_.

"And...you and Cas?"

"There ain't any me and Cas."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

It's kind of amazing, watching the puzzle pieces all click together in Sam's head. "So when Cas said he was indifferent…"

Dean scuffs his boot on the pavement. "Story of my fucking life, right? Whatever. Not like it changes anything."

"Dean." Sam puts a hand on Dean's shoulder, forcing him to look his brother in the eye. "You need to talk to Cas."

"What?" Did Sam not hear any of what they just said? Cas isn't attracted to people, least of all Dean. _And why the fuck is he having this conversation anyway?_

"Just. You gotta talk to him. I'll be…" He nods his head in the opposite direction of where Cas has gone and walks off before Dean can protest.

_Dammit._

"Trouble in paradise?" a woman's voice asks from behind him.

"Sorry?" Dean spins on his heel to find a woman with long, grey hair streaked with pink standing behind a white plastic table. Laid out on purple cloth are colorful beaded necklaces and earrings, but the woman gives him a sly look and reaches under the table to pull out a wooden box.

"Not to be a busybody, but I think I know just the thing for you to win that nice young man's heart back." She smiles at him. "Gifts are always a good choice."

Dean's so shaken by the emotional roller coaster he's been on the last ten minutes that he automatically replies, "Uh, that was my brother…"

"No, no, the other one." From out of the box, the woman pulls out a silver necklace with a blue crystal pendant at the end. "Now, I reserve these for _special_ customers. There's a blessing on it and when you give it to your beloved—"

The crystal swings in front of him...so pretty and is it the sun that's making him woozy?...maybe he should just buy the necklace it's really nice and Cas would probably like it and who _cares_ about some stupid case this whole thing is just ridiculous Cas is more important than worrying about—

"You're the witch." Dean's eyes snap up and he shakes his head to clear it. The magical residue leaves a bitter tang on his tongue. Fucking witches.

The woman freezes before she snarls. "Hunter."

Still clutching the necklace, she turns and bolts. Dean vaults over the table, scattering jewelry, and takes off after the witch, who is surprisingly nimble for a Frankie Bergstein wannabe. They weave in and out between tables and people, and Dean earns more than a few "Hey, watch it, asshole!" remarks as he steps on toes and bangs into people. It's not _his_ fault they don't move out of the way when he shouts at them to do just that.

He nearly loses her when he gets caught behind a group who look like they just walked out of _Rocky Horror_. Dr. Frank N. Furter doesn't seem all that upset when Dean practically bowls into them, and instead gives him a once-over, a wink, and a kissy face before Dean manages to run off again.

" _Shit_ ," he exhales as he looks around the crowd, trying to find her again. There's a yell to his right and he whips his head in that direction, only to find a gaggle of people standing around Cas, who has the witch pinned to the ground.

Before the crowd can turn into a riot of accusations at seeing some retiree getting taken down by some dude, Dean reaches into his back pocket and pulls out the FBI badge. "Alright, FBI. We have things under control. If you could just step aside."

He manages to herd the crowd away from Cas and the witch while surreptitiously handing him the witch-proof cuffs he'd had in his other pocket. Cas slips them on her as Sam shows up, helping disperse the crowd.

"I was only trying to help!" she argues as they drag her away from the main road.

Dean couldn't give two shits about what she thinks she was trying to do. "Shut up."

Cas frowns. "What do we do with her?"

"Well, we ain't gonna gank her in the middle of a crowd in broad daylight." As tempting as it may be.

Sam already has his phone out. "Call Rowena, let her handle it?"

The witch pales. "Rowena? Rowena MacLeod?" She looks frantically between the three of them. "No, not that. _Please_."

"Yeah, that seals it." Dean nods at Sam to make the call, then grips the witch by the upper arm and drags her along in the direction of the car.

Sam catches up a minute or so later, just as Cas and Dean have shoved the witch in the back seat of the Impala. "Gimme the keys. Rowena's gonna meet me about an hour from here."

"Just you?"

"Yep. You and Cas are going to stay here. I'll be back and pick you up."

Cas' brow furrows. "I don't understand."

Dean does, though, and he glares at his brother. Sam, however, glares right back.

_Fucking talk to him, Dean. _

_I hate you so much right now._

_Uh huh. Gimme the keys or I hotwire the car._

Grumbling, "Fine," Dean digs the keys out of his pocket and tosses them to Sam. "Not a fucking scratch, you hear me?"

Sam rolls his eyes and gets into the car. As he drives off, Cas turns to Dean. "What's going on?"

Dean scratches the back of his head. "Sam thinks we need to talk."

"I've been _trying_ to talk to you all day."

"Yeah, I know, I'm a jackass."

"Dean."

Dean sighs and gestures vaguely around the parking lot and in the direction of the Pride Parade. "I dunno. This whole thing just got into my head." Cas waits for him to explain more, but instead, Dean just nods at Cas' flag sticker. "You never did get to tell me what demiwhatever means."

"Demisexual."

"Yeah, that."

Cas levels him with a look. "I thought it was 'just a sticker'."

As much as it sucks, he knows he deserves that. "Yeah, well, I was wrong." He glances down at his own shirt. The sticker is still there, although one corner is starting to lift and curl. "Getting the right one is important."

Cas follows his gaze, and understanding crosses his face, softening the expression. Thank god: Dean isn't sure he could go through that whole mess of an explanation again.

With that out of the way, Cas finally answers Dean's original question. "It means I am only sexually attracted to a person if I've formed an emotional connection with them. It's not a perfect fit, but it's the closest in human terms."

A flicker of hope rises in Dean's chest. "Oh." He lets that sink in for a second, then smiles, relieved when Cas returns the grin. "C'mon, Cas. Sammy was right. We got stuff to talk about, but I ain't gonna do it here in the parking lot."

Cas' eyes crinkle. "Where do you suggest?"

"I dunno if you noticed, but there's a party goin' on back there. Could be fun."

"Even if you hate parades?"

Dean slings his arm around Cas' shoulder. "I'll make an exception."

Who knew the right sticker would work like a charm.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos always appreciated :)
> 
> Check out my other works (sorted by series for easier navigation):  
> [Grey's works](http://archiveofourown.org/users/grey2510/series)  
> Come visit me on Tumblr! @[grey2510](https://grey2510.tumblr.com/)


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